


Love is a Special Sort of Power

by sushicorps (Inclinant)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Crack, Humour, In which 27 year old Yuuri is still very cute and oblivious to it, M/M, Role Reversal, Viktor is a fabulous 23 year old disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inclinant/pseuds/sushicorps
Summary: “You don’t understand, he’skillingme with thepower of love,” Viktor Nikiforov, twenty three years old, famous world over for not ever giving a fabulous fuck, actually cries out as he buries his head in his hands.Yakov’s, well…Yakov is very impressed.Or: 27-year-old reigning world champion and soon-to-be-coach Katsuki Yuuri’s power of love is super effective!





	1. Chapter 1

 Viktor Nikiforov, twenty-three years old, third ranked male figure skater in the world and top Russian male skater, is a little shit.

 

Yakov knows it.

 

The entire Russian team knows it.

 

Probably the entire figure skating world knows it.

 

Heck, even Viktor knows it.

 

There is literally no other excuse for him to otherwise keep flouncing around the rinks with his hair that he insists on keeping fabulously long doing whatever he wants like adding a quad flip at the very end of his routine during the Rostelecom Cup because he.

 

Got.

 

Bored.

 

Yakov hadn’t even knew Viktor had been practicing that move.

 

 _Surprise!_ He had grinned utterly unrepentantly at Yakov and Yakov had just barely resisted the great urge to clock him, mainly because the finals for the Grand Prix was coming soon and he couldn’t have one of the star Russian skaters show up in less than stellar form.

 

Oh the things that he sacrifices for the great sport of ice skating. He should have statues to his name, monuments.

 

So at the banquet after the finals, when he spies his uselessly unrepentant student drunk off his ass from downing like twenty flutes of champagne to mourn his _still_ bronze medal cornering the gold medallist and pinning the smaller Japanese man to the wall to make some ridiculous bet for the other to be his coach…

 

Yakov does the obvious thing the very next day while Viktor’s hungover as hell in his hotel room.

 

He grabs Yuuri Katsuki as he passes, luggage, bags, humongous poodle plush and all, hauls him to one side and goes:

 

“Look, seriously, _just take him._ ”

 

* * *

 

_\- Four Months Later-_

 

Yuuri throws his arms up in the air in defeat but Mari is still holding the bowls of katsudons away and captive.

  
  
“....Ooookay so you were bored-”

 

“Yes-”

 

“-but then this really hot and handsome young Russian with a fantastic ass by the way, I _know_ because it’s right there on like fifteen of the posters that I’m totally not judging you for suddenly getting-”

 

“It’s called _research_ -”

 

“Not with that ass.”

 

“His butt is _not_ the reason-”

 

“Keep telling yourself that, little brother.”

 

 “That’s no-”

 

“ _Annnywayyy_ so long story short you got pinned to the wall by a really handsome and super hot young man while he was half naked and probably drunk but do I need to mention the really handsome and super hot part once again ….?”

 

Yuuri faceplants into the table.

 

“So yeah I don’t see what’s the problem.”

 

“He _kabedon-ed_ me to the wall, Mari,” He groans, still lying face down on the table, face burning up again a little as his traitor of a mind plays that moment over in his head again in stupid HD quality.

 

Really, Yuuri had just been quietly sipping his champagne in one corner, wistfully watching the other finalists who all seemed to know each other really well laugh and chat at the far end of the banquet hall.

 

And then suddenly his back’s up a wall, breath knocked out of him, a loud thud reverberating from over his right shoulder and there’s a tall figure looming over him, tie askew, jacket half off and top shirt buttons torn open, eyes dark and strangely intense and another hand, strong and warm, reaching up to gently tilt his chin upwards-

 

“Yuuri…” The other - Viktor Nikiforov, the bronze medalist - starts, tilting his head and sending his silvery blond fringe falling over his clear blue eyes and cheekbones so pretty they hurt-

 

“Won’t you be my coach?”

 

And then he had pouted.

 

And then collapsed into his arms.

 

And his hair had been really soft and smelled really nice.

 

Like flowers.

 

...Had he just said all that out loud?

 

A quick glance at Mari’s utterly unimpressed look confirms it.

 

“Would you rather he katsudon-ed you-”

 

“ _No!”_

 

* * *

 

**KATSUDON’S IPHONE: You have 356 Notifications from LINE, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram….waiting.**

**hamuhamuPhichit!:** YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURI LOOK

 **@averyrandomfangirl @katsudonyuuri** HAVE YOU SEEN THIS YET?

 **Yuuko (Yuu-chan):** 有利君見て見て！！！！！！

 

* * *

 

 **Mila:** Seriously are you still asleep?

 **Mila:** So like I thought you should see this

 **Mila:** Yuri uploaded it

 **Mila:** Mainly because he still hates you

 **Mila:** You really shouldn’t have taken that last piroshki the other day.

 **Mila:** GUESS WHO RETWEETED IT BY THE WAY

 

* * *

  **勝生勇利 @katsudonyuuri Retweeted:**  
I LOVE this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
**Юрий Плисецкий@yuri-getoffmyice**

 **@V-Nikiforov** being dumb on the rink as usual, what’s new

 

 **Video:** Viktor Nikiforov completely wastes time on **_MY ICE_ ** skating Katsuki Yuuri’s SP: Eros

 **Caption:** _Go crazy, fangirls._

 

* * *

 

 **Chrislovin’this Ice** has sent an screenshot.

  **Chrislovin’this Ice:** Im just saying, he put love in caps.

  **Chrislovin’this Ice** : CAPS.

  **Chrislovin’this Ice:** L. O. V. E

  **Chrislovin’this Ice:** And he put like twenty exclamation marks.

  **Chrislovin’this Ice:** I know because I counted.

 **Chrislovin’this Ice:** See how much I care for your happiness. Don’t you love me, Viktor

 

 **Viktor** : …

 **Viktor:** ………

 **Viktor:** ………………..

 **Viktor:** Kill me now. Just end me, END ME.

 

 **Chrislovin’this Ice:** ….You’re such a drama queen

 **Viktor:** Like you’re the one to talk.

 **Chrislovin’this Ice:** He put _twenty_ exclamation marks!

 

 **Viktor:** ...MAKKACHIN IS THE ONLY ONE I NEED.

 

* * *

 It’s a windy morning in St. Petersburg and Viktor wakes to the same grey skies and an empty flat.

 

Makkachin’s still asleep so he just pads carefully around his sleeping poodle, bending down to give his sole companion an affectionate ruffle between his ears.

 

 He’ll have to be down at the rink by nine, but first, breakfast, then a quick shower and he’ll be out.

 

 It’s all routine by now-

 

 Then the doorbell rings and that is most definitely not routine but no one is ever looking for Viktor, not-

 

 “Viktor! I’m here to be your coach!”

 

 Katsuki Yuuri stands there in the doorway bundled in a ridiculously large coat and with the biggest smile on his bespectacled face and a tiny poodle around his shoulders.

 

So clearly Viktor does the most obvious thing in such a situation.

 

He slams the door shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been really, really, really stressed and sleep-deprived lately.  
> also three of my friends stopped talking to me over the katsudon kabedon but I actually like it??? A lot?? It's PUNNY.
> 
> hats off to yaoi on the rocks for Yurio's MY ICE i love that so much.
> 
> I kinda want to do the entire YOI in role reversal in this utterly ridiculous manner.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://sushicorps.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sushicorps/)
> 
> or not. I'm a bit worried what everyone thinks now after this haha. I swear I write proper AUs and Cute Stuff in other stories.
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe you all read this.  
> I.  
> Okay. Thank you.

He remembers being eight - being eight and already too tall for his age, stumbling on the ice that his mother’s dragged him onto, laughing all the way with her bright smile that has always outshone the sun.

 

The winter sun makes the shadows of the barren tree branches dance over the surface of the frozen lake, the shifting shades of flitting gold and dark shadow and his mother’s long silver blonde hair that’s a shade even lighter than his all mixing together.

 

And then she lets go of his little hand, leaves him wobbling on the ice, fingers reaching out to grasp at her, at empty air....

 

And _jumps._

 

And _oh_ does she jump - it’s beautiful, all the grace of years of ballet shining through as she soars through the air.

 

He may only be eight but even a child can recognise grace in all its gentle glory and in that moment, it’s like there’s this light that flickers to life in his heart, warm and golden and kind.

 

A feeling so strangely familiar, the name always on the tip of his tongue but slipping away. Life and...

 

Not that it matters, because soon after there’s nothing more than a whispered sorry as he pretends to sleep and then only empty air is left in her wake.

She leaves to chase after her dreams, a dream that he would only ever stop her from reaching.

 

He only understands later that he would never have amounted to more than her regret.

 

Sometimes, he still doesn’t quite know what he is doing here, here on the ice, where the crowd and the cheers and the announcers fade away, where only the ice and the wind whipping around his frame is the only thing he can feel, the only thing he wants to feel.

 

But no matter what he does, it’s like he is chasing this far away dream.

 

Even now, he’s still holding onto empty air.

 

* * *

 

Okay but more importantly, at this very moment, something explodes.

 

Namely one Yuri Piletsky.

 

“Why do I have to be Yurio?! I like my name very much-”

 

“Well.” Mila says wisely. “We can’t have two Yuris around can we, imagine how confusing that would be.”

 

“Then why do _I_ have to be the one to change-”

 

“Maybe when you’re world number one, then you can decide,” Their guest chimes in, smiling all the way and Viktor’s eyebrows shoots up through his fringe and higher.

 

 _Wow,_ what happened to the charmingly polite Katsuki Yuuri famous for all his delicate yet stirring routines dedicated to all the themes of Love?

 

To the flawless dancer over the ice that had mesmerised him as a young skater, every movement impeccable grace in its fluidity and precision, every routine performed with such a wild abandon to the music that only spoke of a pure love for the ice-

 

No seriously, what happened.

 

What is happening to him.

 

Literally what is going on right now.

 

Sure, Viktor had invited Katsuki Yuuri into his home because for all that the other was a genius skater, he clearly wasn’t a genius in like life in general because he’d flown over with all his things without arranging for accommodation or even anything else at all.

 

And then he’d brought Yuuri down to the skating rink too because honestly, what else was he supposed to do? Bring him around to see ducks?!

 

It’s not like Viktor has a terribly exciting life that extends beyond the skating rink anyway - plus Yakov had made it clear that he was going to be at the rink even if he had to go to his apartment and drag him there himself.

 

So he’d just brought along his unexpected plus one and watched the entire skating rink just...sort of lose it.

 

Okay, well, to be honest, everyone’d just gone straight to take out their phones to furiously punch at their screens in total silence and Viktor has the sinking feeling that his notifications are going to be crazy again when he checks it later but he’ll deal with things one thing at a time.

 

Like one explosive junior skater, for example.

 

Yuri just grits his teeth and whirls around, jabbing furiously in the direction of the small Japanese man who’s just all pleasantly smiling at everyone all around like he’s not the reason why the everyone is crowding around the rink or furiously whispering by the side and just generally completely not skating at all like they all should be doing.

 

“...JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT, KATSUKI.”

 

Yakov glares. _“Yurio!_ ”

 

“Yakov, why are you using that- I-  you know what, I quit. GOODBYE.”

 

“Well that went well,” Viktor says to no one in particular.

 

“I think it went pretty well too,” Yuuri says, face set into a small frown behind his glasses, finger lightly grazing his lip in concentration and Viktor _stares,_ then realises how he’s all too suddenly right next to him and totally does not jump three feet into the air.

 

“I’m a bit jealous, your video ended up with more views than mine, you know. I guess, being a tall handsome Russian helps with the fans-” Yuuri laughs, absentmindedly reaching out to play with a strand of his long hair and it’s cold here in the rink, in the St. Petersburg chilly spring, but Viktor's face is like _fire_. This is _unfair,_ why did Yuuri just have to have such a soft voice, how dare he say that with such a dreamy tone, why did the traitorous sun have to just be streaming through the grey clouds right now and through the windows to light up Yuuri's eyes-  


 

“Wow, it’s really silver! It always looked so pretty on the screen but I never knew it was so shiny in real life!” He says and smiles and lets the strand of hair flutter down between them, then pushes forward and spins around easily, a hand outstretched in the empty air between them.

 

"Come on, I want to see you skate!"   


 

...Yes, there is no way he is going to survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to remain my little stress writing ficlet zone so ...I myself don't really know what to expect.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://sushicorps.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sushicorps/)


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in the back room amongst the lockers, an unimportant side character who will not appear again observes the rink through the doors and opines.

 

“Viktor seems a bit quiet today, doesn’t he?”

 

Mila just slams her own locker shut, or at least tries to, because the thing  _ refuses _ to close. She scowls as the door just rebounds and wings up hanging sadly at an angle, then slams it shut once more, throwing her whole weight into it to do so.

 

Finally, the damn thing closes and if that’s the sound of two of Viktor’s precious posters crumpling, well, it just serves him right. 

 

The only reason she’s having this trouble anyway is because Viktor had come over in a wild panic and promptly began to hastily stuff his thousand and one Katsuki Yuuri posters and merchandise in it this morning.

 

He owes her so much. So. Much.

 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” She says through gritted teeth, already mentally putting a list together of her favourite chocolates that the man better ply her with even if he has to go to Belgium to get it.

 

“Enjoy it while it lasts, anyway!” Mila concludes because really, she’s not giving this more than half a day.

 

* * *

 

It’s really been some crazy form of survival instinct that’d kicked in the moment he’d opened the door to the one skater that he’s idolised since young, fresh on the ice and barely able to land a jump. It’d hurt and been hard and frustrating and he’d had dreams and goals and ambitions... but they always seemed to fall short somehow and none of it could ever compare to the effortless grace and delicate magic Yuuri weaved on the ice, every emotion, every move, every song sharp like a dagger to Viktor’s heart.

 

There’s no words to describe it, really, which is why it seems like the words have been robbed from his mouth, leaving him to silently follow after Katsuki Yuuri as the other skates around the rink, as if Viktor hadn’t already spent his life chasing after that raven prince who’d always been so near but far away, the mere centimeters of the podium from first to the bottom like this chasm he never dared crossed.

 

It’s like a dream, or a prank, or life’s way of telling him his life is a huge joke.

 

“So,” Yuuri says, his small figure somehow commanding the attention of the whole rink anyway and Viktor snaps to attention, skidding to a stop in the middle of his warm up immediately.

 

“I saw your flip combination you added to the end of your FS,” Yuuri says, voice softly impressed, face lighting up excitedly. 

 

“Even I’ve never done a quad flip like that at the end of my routine!”

 

Viktor blinks, giving up on trying to make sense of the whole situation any longer. Dream, reality, magical karmic prank or whatever...

 

Katsuki Yuuri just said that he was impressed! By! Viktor!

 

“Flips were never really my best jumps though. I tried a combination with a quad flip before once but...ah, I suppose it’ll make sense that someone much younger can pull it off much better. And you do a lot of flips too, seems to be your specialty, that’s really nice, I wish I could do the same...ah! but….if it’s flips...then…hm...Viktor?”

 

Katsuki Yuuri just said that he was impressed! By! Viktor!

  
“Viktor?”

 

Katsuki Yuuri just said that he was impressed! By!

 

“Viktor!”

 

Viktor blinks to suddenly find Yuuri peering up at him, a frown behind his glasses and nearly tiptoe-ing on the ice to get on the same height as him and the next thing he knows is hitting the ice and the other laughing and those fateful words-

 

* * *

 

“He thinks I’m cute,” Viktor says as he skates to a stop, leaning against the parapet and throwing his head back, sending his long hair flying against the sun streaming in through the skylight. 

 

Distantly, Mila thinks she hears the sound of someone stumbling and crashing into the wall of the rink.

 

“...I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

 

“ _ Cute! _ He thinks I’m cute! Hamsters are cute, puppies are cute, Makkachin is cute, cute is the last thing I want to be.”

 

“...Viktor you have a giant fleece thing that’s more of a fluffy cloud than an actual coat that you got last winter because it was, and I quote, it’s so soft and adorable I must have it.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you got Makkachin solely because you couldn’t resist his fluffiness either.”

 

Viktor looks outraged.

 

“We have a _ bond _ .”

 

He folds his arms and glares.

 

“Our eyes  _ met _ and in that moment, I just  _ knew. _ ”

 

Yakov levels him a flat look.

 

“Viktor you got Makkachin just to chase Alexei out from your apartment. Because he’s scared of dogs.”

 

“...To be fair,” Viktor says slowly, pointing in the air to make his point. ” He was freeloading in my apartment aside from being a tremendously annoying asshole of a skater.”

 

Mila settles for elbowing her coach and nodding to where Katsuki Yuuri somehow already has his own locker at this rink. He’s fighting with the combination lock, then seems to give up on the finicky thing, looking around a little oddly too frantically, desperately, then catches Viktor’s eyes and breaks out into a smile and waves.  

 

“Coach, you’re just going to stand by and let this happen?”

 

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it. Let Katsuki have his fun coaching,” Yakov comments, then shoots Viktor another pointed look that the other completely ignores, pushing off from the wall with a happy tune and going off in Yuuri’s direction with a happy, dopey look on his face and a heart-shaped smile and yup that’s Viktor Nikiforov back for you.

 

“I just hope he likes silver hair because goodness knows his hair won’t be black anymore at the end of the season.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://sushicorps.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sushicorps/)


End file.
